Obsession
by scc1fan
Summary: Back from Hiatus! Someone is obsessed with the Eppes family...and not in a good way...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: My first time posting a chapter story. I know the first chapter's a little short, sorry. The result of insomnia a couple nights ago, this is just the first chance I've had to get it down. Tell me what you honestly think!

**DISCLAIMER**: If I were rich, I would buy all the rights to Numb3rs and all the characters found therein. But I'm not, so I won't, so don't depress me by asking if I own them.

**RATING**: It will most likely turn into PG-13

**Permission to Archive**: Sure, why not--just make sure you credit me.

**OBSESSION**: **Chapter 1**

Click.

Richard Mueller smiled. What a great picture! Two boys playing in the front yard. He'd captured a Kodak moment of the older boy showing the young one how to hold the football. The mother and father watched approvingly from the front door. One big happy family. His family. He put the camera down in the passenger's seat, slid on his shades and drove off.

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Don hated paperwork. Seriously, I mean, how could a case that took only two days to close generate so much paperwork? He sighed and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. He needed more coffee. He got up to refill his cup for the fourth time and happened to glance at the clock on his way into the break room. 7 o'clock? Already? He groaned. Great. He'd promised to be at dad's--no...Charlie's place for supper tonight at 7:30. He thought of the paperwork piled on his desk. Then he pictured the ribeye his father had promised. He sighed. He should probably call his dad and cancel.

On cue, his stomach growled loudly. "Dinner it is," he said to himself, none too cheerily. Instead of filling his cup, he set it in the sink and grabbed his jacket. "David, Megan, Colby," he said over his shoulder--already halfway to the elevators. "Dad's making ribeyes, wanna come?" Three earlier lethargic agents suddenly sprang to life, grabbing belongings and practically racing to catch up with Don.

Alan was happy to see the four agents walking up the drive. They looked tired, but they were still laughing and joking with each other, and the worry lines were quickly being chased away with grins and laughter. He opened the door and welcomed his son and the rest of the team into the house, then looked out the doorway for a moment. Laughter drifted out of the kitchen and dining room and into the crisp evening air. Alan smiled as he shut the door and locked it securely. All was right with the world.

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Click.

"Good," Richard murmured sadistically. "Everyone's home. Perfect."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: See Chapter 1

**A/N**: Just a filler chapter. Needed one to kinda get you to what's going to happen next chapter. One of those boring parts that I abhor writing, but is still needed to make the rest make sense. Hope you enjoy it! More coming soon—I promise!!! And next chapter will be action—don't worry!:)

**A/N 2**: One question--I like to write people's thoughts...how they figure things out, what they worry about, etc. I want to know if that's annoying. I'm being serious, so please let me know! Thanks! Enjoy!:)

**Obsession - 2**

Don was not having a wonderful morning. There really was no reason for his foul mood, but he just wasn't feeling positive. The team hadn't caught a new case in almost a week, so they had all been stuck doing back-logged paperwork. All of them were action people…not paperwork people. Even Megan, the cool-tempered member of the team, had snapped at Colby that morning. Don closed his eyes wearily. They all needed something to do.

His in-office line began ringing, and Don picked it up with a sigh. "Eppes," he said, as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh, hi Rachel. What? Now?" He lowered his voice. "Any inkling as to what he wants?" Don nodded glumly and hung up the phone. Merrick. Just about the only thing that could make a bad day worse was an impromptu meeting with a cranky superior. And if Rachel didn't even know what was on her boss' mind, well…Don just wasn't looking forward to walking into that office without knowing what to expect.

"Suck it up, Eppes," he muttered to himself. Standing, he put on his suit jacket and straightened his tie. Megan caught his movement and glanced up questioningly. When Don mouthed the name of their boss, she flashed him an encouraging look and mouthed back "Tell me later." Don nodded and started for the other office.

Don felt strange as he headed for Merrick's office. Almost like he was 14 again, and headed for the principal's office. He caught himself grinning as he remembered the different pranks he'd pulled that warranted the long walk to that particular office. Like the time he'd put a dozen frogs in the teacher's lounge. That had been a riot. He shook his head. He'd been quite a rebel when he was a kid. Mostly because he was always trying to get out from underneath Charlie's shadow. High school hadn't been the best four years of Don's life. Of course, recently Charlie had confided that he had hated practically every minute of high school. Don was very grateful that those years hadn't forever separated him from Charlie.

"This is a weird time to be contemplating your relationship with Charlie," Don told himself. "You need to be concentrating on figuring out what Merrick wants. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he wants a partner to golf with on Sunday. Maybe he wants to invite me to lunch. Or commend me and my team for all our hard work!" Don chuckled ruefully. Why was he so agitated about this? He'd met with Merrick hundreds of times for all different reasons. This was nothing different. So why did it feel so different? Like his life could change after this meeting. Don shuddered involuntarily. When had he become so melodramatic? That was Charlie's thing.

Here was Merrick's office. He nodded at Rachel, flashing a wide grin. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. He waited while the secretary buzzed Merrick and told him that Don was there. Merrick's response sent the butterflies in Don's stomach to spinning again. "Don't let him come in—we're not ready for him yet."

That didn't sound good. Rachel acknowledged Merrick and pointed to a chair for Don. He ignored the hint and instead asked her, "Who else is in there with him?"

Rachel shrugged. "Two guys came in after Merrick called for you. Government suits. They came without an appointment, and they've been in there ever since." Something about that bothered Don. Obviously, the meeting was about him, but why? He attempted to calm his mind and sat down. It was probably nothing, right? What was going on?

Don and Rachel both started when the intercom buzzed. "Let him in," Merrick ordered. Rachel obediently got up from her desk and opened the door for Don. Determined not to let his uneasiness show, Don squared his shoulders and marched through the door. With an official nod at the two strangers, he walked past them and directly up to Merrick. "What can I do for you, Director?" he asked crisply.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter 1

**A/N**: A short little Megan chapter.

**Obsession Chapter 3**

Megan sat at her desk and worried. She had been so bored all week—practically starving for action. But now that something was going on with Don, she was worried. Was everything okay? She glanced over at Colby and David, but both were bent over their work, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Don was gone and she had stopped working.

Why was she so worried about this? It was probably nothing. Merrick most likely just wanted Don to tell him how the team was doing. Well, that was a nice thought…but something about it felt wrong to Megan.

She needed to do something. She got up and walked over to David's desk. "Got a second?" she asked nonchalantly.

David looked up from his work, surprised. "Um…sure."

He got up and followed after Megan, who was already at Colby's desk.

"Colby, " she snapped, still somewhat upset with him after their shouting match that morning. "Come here a second."

Colby looked at her coldly. He really wasn't still mad at her, but he wasn't about to admit that he'd forgiven her. "Why?" he challenged her.

Megan had already turned and headed for the conference room, but at Colby's response, she stopped and turned around. She could feel Colby shooting daggers at her, and she knew it was her fault. She faced him and sighed. "Colby," she started. "I was a jerk earlier and I'm sorry. It's been…a long week, but you've been here all week too and getting upset with you was uncalled for."

Colby smiled. "It's cool, Megan. I know you didn't mean it. It's been a bad week for all of us."

Megan nodded her thanks at his handling of the situation and motioned the two agents into the conference room. When all three were in the room, Megan shut the door and leaned against it. The two men looked expectantly at her. Suddenly, Megan felt really stupid. What was she going to say? "I feel weird that Don got called to Merrick's office?" Frantically, she tried to think of a good reason she would have called them into a meeting. She felt herself blush and was about to just tell them to forget it, when Colby pointed past her, out into the bullpen.

"What's Don doing out there?"

Megan and David turned and looked where Colby had indicated. Don stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He was holding something white in his hands. And he didn't look good…

TBC

**A/N 2**: Probably my last update for a couple days--hope you enjoyed it! Review and let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter 1

**A/N**: Thanks for all the great reviews. They mean a lot and make me want to keep writing.:) I know I write kinda short chapters, I'm sorry. But if ya'll will be okay with shorter chapters and faster updates, then we'll be cool. Deal?:) Now...I'll let you in a bit more on what's going on with Don… sigh…if I must.;)

**Obsession Chapter 4**

Don stared at the envelope in his hands and leaned against the wall. The letter inside there could change his life forever. He should be excited. And proud. He should really open it.

Of course, Don already knew the basics of what was in the letter. The two "strangers" in Merrick's office had explained the offer to him, and then handed him the letter, telling him it contained "the rest of the details."

Don sighed. He was torn and confused. He needed some time to figure this out. Time by himself.

Don nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He started, but recovered quickly when he saw it was Megan. He silently berated himself for his lack of attention as he noticed his entire team standing next to him.

"You okay?" Megan asked, concerned. David and Colby's faces mirrored the same emotion.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Don stuttered. How was he going to get out of this?

Megan turned critical eyes on his face and studied. Don knew his team wasn't stupid. They could all tell something wasn't right, and they were now all looking at the envelope in Don's hands.

Don wasn't in the FBI for no reason. He quickly stuffed the envelope in his jacket and put a mask of unreadable emotion on his face. "I'm fine," he said confidently.

Six eyes looked at him. "Just thinking," he insisted. He glanced at his watch, mostly to get away from the stares of his team. "Look," he said, "It's nearly five. I promised Dad that I would come over this evening, and I've got a couple of errands to run before that." Don hurried on, not giving one of the three a chance to talk. "We've all done a lot today, and our paperwork's almost finished, so I'm going to take off. Why don't you three do the same?"

Don slipped past David and grabbed his briefcase off his desk. Megan, Colby, and David stared in stunned silence as Don headed for the hall and out the door without a backwards glance.

When Don was out of sight, the other agents silently headed for their desks. After picking up their belongings, all three got in the elevator and headed downstairs. No one was talking, but all three were thinking, and worrying, about their leader.

"So," Colby finally said, after the doors opened and the three were standing in the lobby. Megan and David looked at him expectantly. "Who wants to call Mr. Eppes?"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter 1

**A/N**: Thanks for all the response this story has gotten. It means a lot to me. Here's the new chapter--it's short, but I'm posting two today--so no complaining, 'kay?:) Enjoy!

**Obsession Chapter 5**

Alan hung up the phone with a sigh. His conversation with David had him worried. David had called to tell him that Don had left the office quite suddenly, and he, Megan, and Colby were concerned. Apparently, Don had had a meeting with his superior, and something must have happened, because he had come out looking…what had David said? Drained. That was it. Since Don had mentioned that he was going over to see Alan that night, the team thought one of them should call and give Alan a heads-up. The call had ended with the usual pleas not to tell Don they'd called him.

Alan appreciated Don's team so much. They seemed to need him as a sort of father-figure, and he thought of all of them almost as children. He knew they were aware that Don tried to keep bad things that happened at work at the office, not wanting to worry Alan, but he appreciated them sometimes calling to let him know something was up. They usually didn't give him specifics, but they would just let him know that Don was worried about something, so Alan would know to talk to him.

As he pondered the phone calls he'd gotten in the past years, he realized that first Terry and then Megan were usually the ones to call. He wondered why David had called this time. "Probably lost the coin toss," he said as he chuckled to himself.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was nearing five o'clock. Don had promised to be here by six. Charlie wouldn't be home until probably nine, since he had a student to tutor that evening. Assuming Don was on time, that gave Alan roughly three hours to make Don spill his story.

Easing himself into his easy chair, Alan picked up his Sudoku puzzle book and settled in for a wait. "Well," he said quietly. "Whenever you're ready to talk, my boy, I'm here."


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER**: See Chapter 1

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews! A little warning--this chapter starts to delve into the mind of a very creepy person. It's where the story takes a turn toward that PG 13 I was warning you about. This is the last pre-written chapter, so will probably be the last update before this weekend, unless I get really hyper and write a bunch of chapters between now and then.:) Please read and review--it'll get rid of my writer's block! Well...that and cookies...and Dr. Pepper.;)

**Obsession - 6**

Richard sat outside the FBI building, reading a newspaper. He looked up when Don walked past his truck and slid into his car. Richard turned a concerned eye on the agent as he sat in his SUV, unmoving. Something was obviously wrong. His heart lurched at the thought of something bad happening to his family.

When Don finally started up his vehicle and headed out of the parking lot, Richard neatly folded up his paper and flipped on his guidance system. A red dot indicated that Don was taking his normal route to the post office. Not needing to maintain visual contact since he had him on radar, Richard sat in the parking lot. A few keystrokes later, he noted with satisfaction that Charlie and Alan were both where they had been the last time he'd checked on them.

Now…Don should be going over to have supper with Alan in about an hour, so Richard needed to get home. He didn't want to miss that father/son conversation!

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When Richard arrived home, he went directly to his "bunker." Carefully sliding back a panel, a door came into view. Three locks decorated the door, but Richard had them unlocked within seconds. Practice makes perfect. Once inside, he pulled up to a desk situated in front of several TV monitors. Most of them showed rooms of various environments. One was a classroom, one an office of some kind, and several were different rooms in a house. On a different wall hung six black monitors. The small flashing red light indicated that though the screens were in hibernation mode, they were still transmitting, but Richard didn't pay them any mind. Don wasn't at his apartment, so he didn't need to see empty rooms.

With skilled proficiency, he rewound a couple tapes and noted with satisfaction that Alan had indeed cooked a nice meal for his son. Alan was usually good that way. Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, Richard noted that Don should be entering the picture soon. He heart was near bursting with happiness that he would get to see Don again tonight. So many times within the past months Don had stayed at the office for hours, then would suddenly appear on one of Richard's 'special' screens half asleep already. Within moments, he would stumble into bed, and Richard would again be denied the pleasure of his 'company.'

No matter how efficient Richard was, he knew better than to try to bug the FBI offices where Don worked. Though his inventions were usually smaller than the human eye could see, it would only take the discovery of one for everything to come crashing down. And he couldn't afford that. He would lose his family! And so, he resigned himself to "watching" Don through GPS and from the video at CalSci, Charlie's house, and on occasion—his own apartment. When his need became almost too much to bear…when a case forced Don to stay away from those places for days, Richard pulled out videos he had of Don growing up, and watching them, earnestly yearned for the times when the boy was too young to be gone more than a few hours, and was always home by suppertime.

But look! There he was now! With quick work, the view of several monitors combined to make one large picture of the Eppes' living room as Don Eppes came in the door. One CLICK of the mouse and the picture was cataloged away with thousands of others. But for now, Richard put on headphones and began to listen to the conversation between Alan and his eldest.

Now he would finally find out what was going on.

TBC

**A/N 2**: I know…creepy, isn't he? I know I haven't told you what's going yet, but I'm struggling to keep all the threads up to the same point in time. That's why I spent this chapter bringing you more up to date on Richard.

Want more? You know what to do…click that button and tell me so!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Well here you go…three pages, typed! Aren't ya'll happy now:) As promised—here's Chapter 7…when you finally find out what is in that letter. Special cheers go to Jules…who guessed that part of the plot easily. Please read and review! Now…without further ado…

**Chapter 7**

Don unlocked the door to Charlie's house and walked in wearily. He was so tired…tired of trying to think. He'd been trying to think for the past hour and it really wasn't getting him anywhere. He had finally decided to talk to his dad. Usually he dreaded "conversations with Dad," but this time, he really needed some advice.

Hearing a rustle of papers, he looked up at his father. Alan was putting away a Sudoku book and rising from his easy chair. "Hi, Donnie," he said pleasantly, pretending not to notice Don's tired and tension-worn expression. If Don was going to tell him anything, he knew he would have to let him do it at his own pace. Any prodding from Alan would back fire and probably make Don clam up completely.

Don nodded his hello, acknowledging his dad's forced cheerfulness as the cover it was—worry. He wondered who had called Alan this time. Probably Megan, he mused. It was usually her. He had been angry when he first found out that his team would call and give his dad a heads-up about what was going on in his life, but sudden understanding of why they did it came from an unexpected source. Larry had heard Don mutter something about it to himself one day, and had pulled him aside. Very respectfully, (Larry had always been a bit intimidated by the eldest Eppes brother) Larry had showed him a different side of the argument.

Through several meaningful and some not so meaningful examples, Larry showed Don that it wasn't disrespect, but his team going the extra mile to care for him and watch his back. And Don absolutely could not argue with his last point—a reminder of the several times Don had stepped away and called Larry…to tell him that Megan needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to—besides her team. Don had always thought that was part of his job as team leader—to watch out for his team, whether they were on a case or not. Now he saw that that didn't always have to be his job. So he accepted the scientist's arguments, and the two agreed never to let on that Don knew what his team was doing.

Truth be told, Don actually enjoyed knowing that after a really tough case, his dad would have an inkling something might be up. It was comforting. That was why he was relieved that his dad was so obviously ready to talk tonight. If he remembered right, Charlie would be home late, so that would leave several hours to talk to Alan before his brother came back. Of course, Charlie would eventually be told everything as well, but Don wanted to run everything by Alan first.

-----

At a stopping point in dinner, Don cleared his throat. Alan looked up expectantly. The two had chatted amiably throughout the meal, but Don had obviously not broached the subject heaviest on his mind, which was evidenced by the many times he would simply stop eating and stare off into the distance, lost in thought, then suddenly would find himself again, chuckle embarrassedly and bring up yet another new subject to talk about.

Don wiped his mouth on his napkin and pulled back slightly from the table. He had been trying to figure out all dinner how to broach this subject with his dad, and he had finally decided the best approach was the direct approach. "Dad," he said calmly. "I'll help you clean up later…or maybe we'll leave it for Charlie or something, but let's go into the den…I…I need to talk to you about something."

Alan's heart soared…and so did Richard's.

Seated near each other, Don on the couch, Alan in his chair, Don cleared his throat again and began. "I got called into Merrick's office today."

"Oh?" Alan replied guardedly, questioningly. After a moment's silence…"Was there a problem?"

"I thought so, at first," Don admitted. "But it turns out he wasn't really the one who wanted to see me. There were two other guys there too. They're the ones who asked for the meeting. They had a … a proposition for me."

Alan desperately wanted to yank the story out of Don. He was so anxious to hear what happened! But he reined in his emotions and only allowed himself a noncommittal, "Oh? What kind of proposition?"

At that, Don stood and walked over to where he had discarded his suit jacket when he came in. Removing something from the inside pocket, he returned to the couch and held it in his hands. "This proposition," he said simply, handing the envelope to Alan. "Read it."

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Richard's heart was doing flip-flops. The whole dinner had been torture for him, as he listened to the inconsequential chatter the father and son had done. When Don had finally announced he was ready to talk, Richard's heart had leaped into his throat. Now he would finally get some answers. He had been near sick with worry all day, and now he would find out if there had been justification for that worry or not.

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Alan started reading the letter out loud, but only got a few sentences before he turned wide eyes on Don, who was staring at him intently, trying to gauge his father's feelings. When Alan turned back to the letter, he finished it silently. Once done, he sat it down and turned to his boy. "A special assignment Don? I know I don't understand everything in there after just one read-through, but it sounds wonderful! A security detail for someone that important…it's awesome!"

Don smiled slightly at Alan's enthusiasm. "It's an awesome honor, Dad," he said. "But it's so huge it's kinda making my head swim, you know? I mean, you know I was pretty high up in the Bureau before I moved back here, but to be chosen for such an assignment…it's …"

"Scary," Alan finished for him, nodding.

Don agreed with a nod. "And it's such a commitment, I mean—six months! Overseas! I'm not sure I'm willing to give up everything here for that. I like what I do, Dad. I'm not sure I want to give that up—even for something like this. Merrick made it clear that he would support whichever decision I made. He was actually nicer than he's ever been to me—said the office would miss while I was gone, but it would be a fantastic career move. And to be honest, it's not even this assignment that has me worried. The agents I talked to made it clear my name was on the short list for assignments like this. High security detail posts. Lead security agent posts to ambassadors and the like. If I take this one temporary job, it will no doubt lead to others. I would ultimately have to end up choosing between the life I have here now and something drastically different. A step up career-wise…I'm just not so sure about everything else-wise."

Alan listened quietly while his son explained all of this and when he had finally finished his mini-rant, he leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Don's knee. "Listen, Donnie," he said calmly. "This sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Yes, it has drawbacks, but there are a lot of positives as well. And…I see what you're saying about it becoming its own career, but it wouldn't have to, would it? I won't tell you to take or leave this job. I'm just saying to stop thinking about it in such broad terms. You haven't been offered any of those other jobs yet. Maybe you will be, maybe you won't, but that honestly has nothing to do with this assignment. Do what you feel, son. I will always support you…always."

Don smiled. "Thanks, Dad. And you're right—I should take or leave this assignment on its merits or demerits alone…not on imaginary jobs that might or might not pop up in the future." Then with a bit of a rueful smile he said," but there are still times once in a while when I wish you could just tell me what the best thing to do was. That was a lot easier when I was a kid."

Alan chuckled and stood, patting his son's knee as he did. Grinning mischievously, he said, "Well, if it'll make you feel better…do the dishes. That's the best thing right now." Extending his hand to his son, Alan pulled him up off the couch and playfully pushed him towards the dinner table still laden with dishes. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about what Don had just told him, but he knew it was wonderful that Don had shared the whole thing with him, and also felt confident that Don would make the right decision. On top of all of that was pride…a deep, wonderful pride that others had finally noticed how amazing his boy was and wanted him to work for them. Don had given up so much…he deserved this recognition. Gathering up a few plates, he joined his son in the kitchen.

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Unbeknownst to either of them, a stranger had been privy to their seemingly private bonding and sharing session. Richard manipulated controls and screens until he found one facing the couch where the letter had been laid aside. With one quick "CLICK," the letter was downloaded onto his hard-drive and saved forever. Of course, Richard had heard the whole conversation between father and son, and knew the basics of what the letter said, but he always copied important documents from the Eppes household. You never knew when you might need something like that. Richard worked with his usual speed, saving the conversation onto a DVD and marking it with the date and the number on his "Scale of Importance." It rated a 5…the highest number. He did all of this silently…seething. Contrasting Alan's fatherly pride of Don, Richard was angry at the agent. He was angrier than he had been at Don in a long time. But with that anger was a silent, maniacal declaration. He wouldn't let him get away with it. Don would not break up his family again.

TBC

Want more? Hit that button and tell me so!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **In this chapter, I'm going to try to explain Richard's actual connection to the Eppes family, and why he is so much more focused on Don than anyone else. As usual—I don't own anything but the plot or anyone but Richard…which is actually pretty creepy, when I think about it. It figures the only part of this I can claim would be the raving lunatic…but that's quite besides the point…

**Chapter 8**

Richard had watched the video several times. He was trying to calm himself, but every time he finished, his anger would surge once again. How could he do this? He had thought Don had changed. His careful observations had shown a new Don the past couple of years. He was closer to Alan and Charlie…and seemed so much happier. And of course, that made Richard wonderfully pleased as well.

So how could he even think of leaving…again? Richard shuddered to think of the years Don was gone from California. They had been horrible on the family. And it was all Don's fault. And he was doing it again. Richard was just about to watch the conversation again when his doorbell rang. Glancing at the security video that showed his front door, he saw it was Samuel.

Samuel had been Richard's attendant for years. He knew everything about Richard, and like a good servant, kept it all to himself. He was paid very well, and for that—he could keep anything a secret. With a flick of his finger, Richard pushed the button that electronically unlocked his front door and allowed the young man entrance. Wheeling himself out of his bunker, he was just finishing locking it as Sam walked up.

Turning an appraising eye on his charge, Sam stated, rather than asked, "Up all night again?"

Richard nodded slightly as Sam took hold of his wheelchair and pushed him into the kitchen. "And let me guess…you didn't eat the dinner I left for you either, did you?"

"I wasn't hungry," Richard growled, still angry over what had actually kept him up all night.

Sam paid no attention to his employer's foul mood. He knew Richard wasn't mad at him…he'd been a victim of the man's anger enough to know if he was actually peeved at him or something else. He also knew he would find out soon enough what this mood was all about. Moving quickly, he warmed up the meal allotted for last night and had it ready for his charge within a few minutes. He was respectful, but firm. Richard was going to eat.

Surprisingly, Richard offered no argument. He liked Sam, he really did. It had taken several tries to find someone about as stubborn as he was to be his attendant. Richard's health never suffered, because Sam saw to it that he took care of himself. And he didn't argue—he needed to be as healthy as possible. He refused to be an invalid, solely dependent on others. And Sam knew that—which is why he pushed Richard to take care of himself even when Sam was not there. That was why Sam was a bit surprised to find out that Richard had left his health quite on the back burner that weekend. He readied himself for quite a story—an important one, obviously, or it wouldn't have taken such precedence.

Once Richard had finished his food, Sam picked up, and helped Richard into the living room, where various exercise equipment was set up. For the next two hours, the two worked out. Despite his injury, Richard was still very strong. About halfway through the workout session, Richard wheeled himself under a bar. Grabbing hold of the bar, he began doing chin ups out of his wheelchair. Sam watched him with admiration. No matter how many times he saw him do it, Richard's sheer strength always amazed him. Richard had always insisted that while the workout sessions were partially for therapy, Sam was always welcome to work out as well. So he did, while keeping on eye on Richard to make sure he didn't overdo.

Richard had finally opened up about the conversation between Alan and Don he had listened in to. Sam understood his anger, though it was nothing personal to him. He had just heard enough of Richard's stories to know how angry the man was at Don for leaving the family so many years before. No wonder he was so irate now! The man was thinking of doing it again! Sam was aware of every piece of surveillance equipment installed in the Eppes home, Don's apartment, and Charlie's office. He had installed all of them. And almost all of them were there because Richard felt the need to constantly check up on Don, to make sure he was staying on the "straight and narrow," as Richard put it. Obviously, he had not.

Still though, Sam wondered what Richard planned to do about the sudden change in the Eppes' lives. What could he do? At Sam's question, Richard stopped his work out and motioned for Sam to stop as well.

Richard had been mulling that exact question over in his mind since last night. He refused to let Don go. He had made that mistake once, and he would never make it again. He was pretty sure he had found an answer. He was grinning now, a wide evil grin that sent nervous chills down Sam's back. Richard's next words were even more chilling.

"I'm going to stop him, of course. Don will not take that job—I'll make sure of that. I gave him a second chance. He blew it. Now, he will pay."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** The story is going to progress pretty fast now. I know that last chapter may have been a little tedious, but it did serve a couple of purposes. One: it introduced Sam, who will be an extremely important figure in this story. It also showed that Richard is in a wheelchair. Despite some predictions to the contrary, that really has nothing to do with the story and I'm not going to dwell on his accident or the cause of it. Suffice to say—he's wheelchair ridden, but can get around rather well. His relationship with Sam is a little odd. It's a friendship, but Richard obviously has Sam's loyalty, making Richard the dominant figure in the relationship. I tell you this, because I really didn't want to waste story time trying to get that across. Again—the action really starts to pick up in this chapter, so hold on!

All disclaimers still apply.

**Chapter 9**

Sam watched his prey. Over the years, he had followed Don Eppes many times, mainly when Richard was sure he was doing something that might harm "his family." Though Sam didn't necessarily agree with the older man's theories that Don Eppes was not to be trusted, and thus needed to be watched as much as possible "for his own good," he participated in the surveillance nonetheless. What did he care? He was being paid, and years of working for someone did instill a certain sense of loyalty. But it wasn't blind loyalty. Sam most definitely understood that what he was about to do for Richard went far, far beyond anything he'd ever been asked to do. Yet he had accepted. Why? It was certainly not because he shared Richard's views that the young agent needed to be punished for his selfishness. The reason he had accepted this job was because he enjoyed a good challenge. And kidnapping a federal agent could definitely be put under the category of "a challenge."

This was it. It was now or never. Sam pulled his hood up and waited for Don to pass by his door before he slipped out of his car. He matched his steps with the man in front of him, waiting for just the right moment. A squeal of tires caused Don to look quickly to the right, giving Sam the needed opportunity to pull his pistol from its hiding spot and place it directly behind the agent's right ear. Don froze as Sam whispered, "One move, and you're dead."

A white van pulled up. Out of nowhere hands appeared, pulling Don inside. Don saw the butt of the gun coming for him and his last thought before he was propelled into darkness was, "I am in big trouble."

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His head was throbbing. Waking up had never been quite so painful. Trying to make sense of where he was, Don opened his eyes, only to see…nothing. His thoughts were fuzzy, and he momentarily panicked, trying to figure out why he couldn't see. It was only when he tried to rub his eyes that he realized his hands were bound securely behind his back. His mind was clearing now, and he recognized the feeling of the blindfold tied around his head. More disconcerting than that was the gag in his mouth. What had he gotten into? With every minute, his sense was returning to him, and he began to remember the details of his abduction.

The only problem was, he couldn't for the life of him figure out the reason behind his capture. It had been so slow lately. Even the cases the team had been handed had been small time thefts or something small like that. The only slightly dramatic thing that had happened the past few weeks had been the job offer he had just gotten. He hadn't even accepted it yet, so that connection was definitely not what this was about.

Don's deductive reasoning was brought to a halt as a sudden wave of nausea hit him full force. The blow to the head had obviously caused a concussion, but Don was very aware of the gag in his mouth, and how dangerous it would be to begin to vomit with the restraining material in place. He could choke to death in a matter of minutes, and that wasn't really a pleasant thought, so Don put all of his power and thought into NOT throwing up. Easing his head down so it was positioned between his knees, he drew slow breaths, trying to calm down the urge to vomit. The strain on his hands was horrible, as he was pulling against his restraints to bend down so much, but the pain in his wrists was not nearly as dangerous as the problem at hand. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the nausea finally let up, and he could breathe a little easier.

For the first time, Don noticed something peculiar about his environment. It was completely silent. Not a sound but his own harsh breathing could be heard. He had obviously been unconscious during the entire road trip, so he had no idea how far away he was from where he had been taken. He was also someplace either far away enough from the city for the sounds not to penetrate the walls, or possibly a basement or sound-proofed room. None of those options were very positive, by the way.

Suddenly, the quiet atmosphere was shattered by the sound of a key in a lock, and the subsequent sound of a door being opened. Footsteps were the only indication that someone had entered the room, until hands suddenly grabbed a hold of him. Then came one of the worst possible feelings Don would ever experience. A metal ring was fastened around his neck and tightened more and more.

Struggling for breath, Don began thrashing around, desperately trying to get his hands to his neck to loosen the collar's hold. A harsh voice interrupted the silence and, Don felt the warm air of the person's breath as he whispered into his ear.

"You are a dog, do you hear me? You are worth nothing. This is your collar, and this room is your home for as long as I say it is. You will learn to do whatever I say, and you will learn to do it quickly. If you refuse, are too slow, I don't like the way you do it, or any time I feel like it, I will punish you. Do. You. Understand?"

Spots danced in front of Don's eyes as he began to pass out from lack of oxygen. He tried to stop himself, he couldn't give in! Not already! But his need for air won over and he gave a slight nod. The collar was loosened immediately, and Don began to gulp in life-saving air. Don's skin crawled as a hand roughly patted his head. "Good dog," said his captor. "That didn't take long at all. Maybe you'll be easier to train than I thought. I'll leave you now, to think over our little lesson."

When the door was closed and locked securely, Don drew a shuddering breath. His chest ached from the struggling he had done during the "lesson." In addition, he could feel blood running freely down his arms, from the cuts his wrists had received from him pulling at them when his airway was being constricted. The most pain of all, however, was the pain of shame that he had given in so easily. It had taken only a few moments for Don to concede all his rights as a human to this unknown captor. In so doing, he had let himself become exactly what his captor wanted him to be—a prisoner, mind and body. The reminder of that fact was all too clear--the metal collar was still fastened around his neck, taunting him.

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Richard watched the scene with obvious delight. His own love of the boy had been totally overshadowed by his anger and hatred of what he had become. Turning to Sam, who was standing beside him, he said, "You certainly found the right man for the job. He will do nicely. I don't think it will take him long to persuade Don to come over to our way of thinking. Wherever did you find him?"

Sam stood silently, watching the abuser leave the room and lock the door. Finally, he said softly, "He and I go way back."

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: Yes…I know. I'm a horrible writer…I kept you in suspense, yadda, yadda. I am really, really sorry about the lack of updates. I got the flu really bad, then an inner ear infection that honestly was worse than just about anything I've ever had. And for some reason it's really hard to type when you're so dizzy you can't see straight. But enough with the excuses—I'll give you what I know you want…

**Chapter 10**

Megan sat at her computer, pretending to work. In reality, she was splitting her time between watching the elevator for Don, glancing at his desk, and watching David and Colby watch the elevator and Don's desk. So absorbed was she in her task that she was greatly startled by her phone ringing.

"Reeves," she answered, once she had recovered. "Oh hi, no, he's not…I see. We'll be there as soon as possible. What's the address?"

Her tone and subsequent questions were enough to pull her other teammates out of their reveries and pay attention to the one-sided conversation. The two descended on her work area and waited while she wrote out an address, thanked the person on the other end of the phone and hung up. Before their questions could be uttered, she looked up into their faces.

"That was Gary Walker. A couple of patrolmen found Don's car in a parking lot near his apartment. When they ran the plates and saw who it was registered to, they called Gary, who immediately tried Don's cell. Like us, he received no answer."

David looked at her. He was beginning to get concerned, but just because Don's car had been found didn't necessarily mean foul play. But Megan was obviously more than a little upset. He raised his eyebrows and silently encouraged her to continue.

Sighing, Megan finished reporting what Walker had told her. "Right by Don's SUV there were signs of a struggle and blood. When CSU was finishing up, they happened to notice something shiny alongside a curb. They discovered Don's cell. It's damaged—most likely caused by a drop to the pavement."

Colby gulped back fear and tried to force his thoughts to think about this rationally. "So," he said softly. Both Megan and David turned to him expectantly. "What are we still doing here?"

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Alan hung up the phone woodenly. This couldn't be. Donnie was just here a few hours ago. He had left early that morning to get some stuff done before going into work. How could he just disappear? He ran over everything Megan had told him: empty SUV, signs of a struggle, but no signs of the most important thing…his boy.

Mind made up—he grabbed his jacket and his keys, and left the house. No way were they keeping him away from this case…just let them try.

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Charlie was in the middle of a lecture when he heard the back door open. Late students…more than likely Grant—he'd been late twice in as many weeks. Deciding not to let him off the hook, he called out, "Mr. Hood—so nice of you to join us!"

But it wasn't Grant…because Grant never wore a suit. He most definitely never wore a tie. And most importantly, Grant was not Agent Todd…standing there with "that look" on his face. Charlie dropped his chalk. He didn't even hear himself dismiss his class mid-lecture, or hear the hushed chattering of his students as they filed past the stranger, casting worried glances back at everyone's favorite math professor. Charlie didn't remember heading for his office for his things. Looking back, he hardly realized he had accepted a ride with the grim looking agent. He just remembered that look. That look he had learned to dread. He'd seen his brother have that look—usually when he had to go inform a family member that "something horrible has happened, and I'm so sorry." But now that horrible, grim look was directed at him, and Charlie could hardly stand it.

Numbly, he made it through security at the Federal building and made it to Don's floor. When the elevator opened, he noticed a flurry of activity everywhere. The floor was usually busy, but not like this. Everyone was grim—hurrying this way and that, sharing information quickly and trading papers and reports almost faster than his mind could compute. He did, however, notice that much of the activity stopped when he stepped off the elevator.

Making his way to the section of the floor he always went, he noticed several people stand at his arrival. He didn't recognize all of them, but one person was conspicuously missing. Don was no where to be seen.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: I'm not even going to waste time on excuses…my leaving this story in the dust for so long has no explanation except that I wish now that I hadn't. But…I made a promise to my sister for Christmas. I said I was going to pick this up and try to finish it. I know, I know…promises, promises. But the good thing is – you guys get to reap the rewards of that promise! Great! Many thanks to all of you who have added this story in the past year. I hope this new chapter doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think by pushing that little button when you're done!

Chapter 11

Don's entire body throbbed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on important things—like how to get out of his situation, but he was somehow always aware of the pain. Figures. Don had been injured before, but never like this. It wasn't just the injuries…though they were most definitely serious, medical attention and a lot of care would take care of them. No, it wasn't just the injuries piling on that were worrying Don—it was the situation he found himself in.

No one but a few of Don's superiors knew some of the things that Don had been put through while on his "special" assignments back in the day. He had been in situations akin to his now, but with one very, very big difference. He had always had back up. He remembered the one other time he had wondered if he would be making it home. He had been dropped with a team into Iraq to secure some…important data. In and out—simple, right? Riiiight. Like things with counter-intelligence were ever simple.

Things had gone smoothly until the retrieval of the data. The operation commander had ordered the copter to the assigned area and the team had headed back. Then everything went south—fast. Guerrillas came out of nowhere, and the team was quickly surrounded. Don remembered watching the young radio man slip off without being detected. His survival instincts wanted to scream at him not to leave, but he knew the young gunny was their only chance at survival.

Two of the remaining four had been killed in the ambush. Their bodies pillaged, they were left in the middle of nowhere, as Don and his companion were bound, blindfolded, and led deep into enemy territory. The following 36 hours were a blur of beatings, questions, and interrogation methods Don swore he wouldn't use on his worst enemy. But through it all, Don kept the hope that that one gunny had gotten through. If he had, rescuers were coming. But hour after hour dragged on, and even Don's faith began to wane.

Jerry, the only other member of the team to survive the ambush, was bad off, and had fallen unconscious once again when Don heard it. Helicopters…shooting…shouting. A guerilla with a mask over his face came into the tent Don and Jerry were being held in, and Don saw murder in his eyes. There was no way he and his friend would get out of there alive. Then, with strength he didn't know he still had, Don flung his legs out, catching the gunman off-guard. One swift well-placed kick insured the man wouldn't ever harm another person again.

Once Don and Jerry were flown back to the States, a story was concocted. No way this could ever get out—the mission had been successful, as the guerillas had not been smart enough to destroy the data, and it too was recovered. The two men who had been killed were mourned. How sad to have lost two good men in such a horrible accident. The fire, of course, burned the bodies beyond recognition, but no worries—counter-intelligence was able to identify them.

And Don had gone back to work. His co-workers were alarmed at his injuries, of course, but bought the story of the car accident. Especially since the police records existed. That was the last out of Bureau case Don had worked in a few years. The data he and Jerry had recovered was significant, but the fact that the retrieval was bungled so badly did not set well with the powers that be. Don had been left alone, and eventually decided that he was to be allowed to follow a standard Bureau career path and move up the ladder. When he moved back home, his superiors were not made aware of his past ops, and he won his team simply from his Bureau record. This pleased him, as he determined to not think of that time ever again.

Still though, sitting in this dark cell, chained like an animal, it was difficult to keep the scenes from so long ago at bay. The method was different, certainly. This present abuser held a disdain for Don that even the rebel guerillas had not possessed. After thinking it over for a few hours…or was it years? Don came to a realization. The injuries and torture inflicted upon him so many years ago had had a purpose – it was an interrogation – they had wanted to know who he was, what he was after, and other pieces of information about his presence in their country. This man – if you could call him a man – knew who he was. In the dozens of "lessons" Don had endured the past few days, his captor had repeatedly called him a "Fed dog."

One problem, however, was that not even a hint of why Don was being held had been released. No demands for information…just demands of obedience to his captor. And such demands. Don had been beaten more times than he wished to remember. Always, the beatings started with his captor tightening Don's collar until the agent nearly passed out. "What are you," the man would sneer, tightening the metal without regard to Don's gasping for breath. Don knew what he wanted…the rule was that he said, "A dog," and the collar would loosen. But after the first few times, Don learned that his captor didn't want him to pass out. So he fought. He refused to answer until he began to black out. The collar was always loosened at just the right moment, and he would be able to catch a breath. Obviously, his new found fight did not set well with his tormenter.

This time was no exception. During Don's trip down memory lane, he had missed the sound of his cell door being opened. Suddenly, his head was pulled back hard by his hair. He bit back a gasp and forced himself to breathe normally. "Well, well," the familiar sneering voice said. "It looks as if you have significantly recovered from our last meeting. It was unfortunate that you chose not to obey me. Now, dog, you will be punished."

Hands came out of nowhere, roughly undoing the straps holding his legs and biceps to the chair. After being in the same position for so long, Don had no control over his limbs, and when the hands suddenly let go, he dropped unceremoniously to the floor. He was disoriented…all of the other lessons had taken place in this room – bound to the same chair. He had not been moved since he first awoke so many eons ago. What was happening?

"Get up, scum," snarled the hated voice, punctuated with a kick to his side that sent Don into a coughing spell. Before he could recover, the rough hands were back, hauling him up and handcuffing his hands tightly behind him. He spared a moment to wonder if they were using his cuffs to bind him, but pulled himself back to the present as he was dragged out of the room and down what felt like a concrete hallway. His captors turned the act of dragging someone into an art form. Every time Don felt like he was able to begin to stand, a kick would send him back halfway between being on his knees and walking on his own. He kept trying though, until he was pulled up short by his collar. Those still holding him by his biceps pushed him to his knees and his captor, who he only recognized by voice, pulled again at the metal ring around his neck.

"You are making this difficult, you dog," he stated angrily. Don recoiled as a hand punched him in the right jaw. "You WILL obey, if I have to kill you to ensure it!!!" The man was furious now, kicking, slapping and hitting Don, who, in turn, would have fallen, were it not for the hands holding him up. The beating finally waned, and Don was being dragged again, as if nothing had happened. Dazed, Don allowed himself to be pulled along this time. No use having another beating before his "lesson" even started!

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Soooooo…should I keep my promise, or let this die a painful death in WIP world?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Guess "Obsession" has been saved from the scrap heap. So, without further ado…

Chapter 12

Alan Eppes sat off to the side as agents scurried around him, each with an important task to complete. He felt lost in the bustle surrounding him. Oh, he knew he wasn't forgotten – he caught the glances of different agents on him every once in a while. Most of the people up here he at least recognized. Some were new – Merrick had put two more teams on the case of Don's disappearance, and even those not directly working the case knew that they could be called in at any moment.

Thinking of Merrick caused Alan to reflect on the meeting he had just had with the man. Megan had come to him about an hour ago and uncertainly told him that the director wanted to speak with him. Alan was surprised – he didn't think it was standard procedure for the director to speak to a family member in the middle of an investigation. Then he panicked. Did he know something?!?! Was Don…Megan must have seen the terror in his eyes, and quickly assured him that nothing new had been found about Don, and that if it had – one of Don's team would be the one to tell him…not Merrick. When pressed for more information, however, Megan shrugged. She didn't know why he was being asked to go up.

Megan had escorted Alan up to Merrick's office, but the secretary informed her she could leave. Megan hadn't seemed very happy with the dismissal, but she obeyed, casting a backwards glance at Alan that dripped with worry, confusion, and curiosity.

As soon as Megan rounded the corner, the secretary got up from her desk and knocked on the door. Hearing an answer, she opened it, motioning Alan inside. Alan walked in, and immediately noticed that there was not one, but three men in the spacious office. The man he recognized as Merrick offered him a chair. Alan thanked him, dropping into an arm chair in front of the desk.

"Mr. Eppes," Merrick began.

"Oh, please," Alan interrupted. "Alan."

Nodding, Merrick began again. "Alan, I don't know if Agent…err…Don told you this or not, but I had a meeting with him, just a few hours before he disappeared. Or, actually, all of us did." He stopped, looking at Alan expectantly.

Alan nodded. "I read the letter, Director. We spoke about it."

At this point, Merrick's door opened, and his secretary escorted Charlie in. Charlie looked a bit confusedly around at the strangers, raised his eyebrows at Alan's presence, nodded to Merrick and took a seat.

After everyone was settled again, one of the other agents spoke up. "Did Don tell you if he had made a decision regarding the job, Mr. Eppes?"

At this, Alan shook his head. "We mostly talked through all the plusses and minuses involved. When he left this morning, he was still thinking about it. You don't think this assignment has anything to do with Donny's disappearance, do you? I mean, it's so soon, and no one else knows! He told me and Charlie last night, but even his team doesn't know!"

The three men in suits looked at each other, silently deciding whether or not to divulge any information.

"Well," said the other 'suit'…apparently a decision had been made…"We're not really sure. The thing is, Mr. Eppes…and Dr. Eppes…Agent Eppes has been a part of many high-priority cases these last few years. That fact was a main reason behind our offering him this position. We needed a security consultant who knew what he was doing. The problem is, we checked into all of his cases before offering him anything. And we've done some checking since his disappearance. Even though there's a lot of chatter over him going missing…all of it is what we call 'curious chatter' – that is, no one knows who's responsible. It's interesting news, but absolutely nothing has been brought out about who took Don, or why."

Merrick took up the story now. "We've been reaching out to the LAPD and Walker's gang task force, and all of their contacts are in the dark too."

Charlie, who had been strangely quiet throughout this conversation, now spoke up. "Are you saying that my brother's disappearance doesn't have anything to do with any of his past cases? Do you know the likelihood of that conclusion? I can calculate it for you, and I can tell you right now…"

Merrick interrupted the professor's sputtering, raising his hand. "Dr. Eppes…Charlie…please. We're not saying that it's not possible that this isn't related to any of Don's prior cases. We're saying that it's very unusual for absolutely no data to show up by this time. No ransom demand has been made," at this he looked at Alan for confirmation. At his nod, he continued. "No ransom, no one has claimed responsibility, and no one on the street even seemed to know Don was gone until our people said something. It just leads us to believe that the timing is more than a coincidence. Is it at all possible that Don would have told someone about this job offer?"

Alan and Charlie looked at each other. They agreed. Alan spoke: "Not before his team, Director. When Don left the house last night, he told us that when he came in today, he was going to tell Megan, David and Colby about it. I think he said that they were heading to lunch together, and he would tell them there."

Merrick sighed. "Alright…then we're back to square one. Thank you for coming in, gentlemen. If you think of anything else, please let me know."

Alan and Charlie stood, obviously dismissed. Charlie turned back right at the door, however, and asked the threesome, "Are you going to tell Don's team?"

Merrick nodded. "We'll have to. I would have rather Don told them, but it's an important part of the investigation, obviously. They'll need to work that into any theories they come up with." Then, almost as afterthought, "Dr. Eppes – you will be working this case, no doubt?"

Charlie resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the director and settled on a terse nod instead. "Of course I'll be helping, Director. My brother's missing. You couldn't keep me out if you tried."

A ghost of a smile graced the director's face at the comment. "You have two good sons, Mr. Eppes," he said. "Stubborn as I'll get out, but good men. Now I know where they got it from." Then standing, he made his way to the door and Alan. "We'll find him, Alan," he said, placing his hand on Alan's shoulder. "That's a promise."

Alan tried hard not to show his emotions. Charlie slipped out the door ahead of him, and he turned, making eye contact with all three men in the office. "I'll hold you to that," he whispered, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

All was quiet in the office after the door shut. Then, the younger agent spoke up. "We've got a problem, you know. We better find it and solve it fast – or Eppes is dead."

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Okay...I'm doing my best not to make up terms and stuff, but "curious chatter" just sounded cool. :) No idea if that's even close...probably not, but hey...at least it makes sense! Sorry no Don in this one...I figured I had left Alan and Charlie hanging long enough. Like it? Hit that button and tell me so! I happen to know that over 400 people read the last chapter...and I got two reviews (thank you!) so...there are a lot of you out there who are reading...please review!!! Pretty please with sprinkles on top!

Kas


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hey…it's faster than I picked it up last time! *sheepish grin* I really need to stop doing WIPs and just finish them first…then when RL gets in the way, no one knows but me… But – here is the next installment of my personal monster fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 13

Sam nursed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. He was troubled, no, scratch that, he was afraid. He was really afraid that this situation had gotten far out of hand. When he had first become Richard's attendant, he had balked at the espionage going on in the house. Richard had been very smooth, and Sam had needed the job far too much to ask questions. And then, of course, he was never asked to do anything. He wagered the first year had been exactly the job description he had applied for.

It was after the first year that things started going down hill. He had been foolish – he should have known that the shrewd man, though handicapped, would have found out about his record. Sam was a technology genius – he had hacked the local PD's records and wiped all evidence of his existence long before he started to work for Richard. He had wonderful reasons, of course. He wasn't that man anymore. He didn't want to be. And so – Samuel Lopez, Jr. just simply ceased to exist, and he became Sam R. Rafael.

But Richard found out. To this day, Sam never knew how. Once Richard had confronted him, he was blackmailed into doing Richard's dirty work. This was seven years ago. Last year, Richard told him that he had destroyed all of his proof to Sam's former identity – as a thank you for his loyalty. He told Sam he could leave. He didn't believe Richard…but he was touched.

But Sam liked Richard. And even though he felt bad about what he was doing to the Eppes, it wasn't as if they were his friends…and they didn't even know. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them – right? Forced for so long to do what he did, he found himself tied to the job, even when offered a chance to leave. And he had to admit – greed had played a part too. Richard paid him well. VERY well. Much more than most "attendants" would or even should receive. With Sam's skills, no one, especially the IRS, was ever the wiser. An account in the Caymans held several million dollars. It was his emergency fund – in case anything ever went wrong. Let's face it…in case Richard ever turned on him.

Sam took another drink. That last thought was what had sent him out of the observation room…away from what was happening to the prisoner. Sam shook his head…he was thinking like Richard. The man was completely livid at the unfortunate eldest Eppes son. Yesterday, he had decided to stop calling him "Don"…he now took on the nickname the guards had been calling the agent – "the dog." Sam shuddered involuntarily. He didn't want to turn into Richard! Eppes…Don Eppes was being slowly beaten to death two stories down from where he currently sat. And it was his fault. Richard had lost it – of this Sam had no doubt. This was not a "lesson" to teach Don (he _would_ call him "Don"…he was not Richard!!!) respect. Richard was going to kill the agent, of this Sam was sure.

Through the years, Sam had seen almost every emotion Richard had toward the eldest Eppes. Lately, there had been a lot of pride – a lot less anger than had occupied most of his tenure. Richard had loved ALL of the Eppes, Sam knew it. So what really frightened him was to see the change – the awful Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde change that had come over Richard in the past 6 days. If Richard turned on Don…who's to say he wouldn't turn on Sam?

Anyone who had eyes could see that Sam was not into what was happening. Though Richard seemed a mite disappointed, he very quickly found a new friend in Don's tormentor: Ace Salinas. When Ace wasn't _teaching_ Don, he was entertaining Richard with his newest ideas on how to break the agent. He had a lot of ideas, and none of them were pretty. Richard was elated…Sam was sick.

And yet, the finger just kept coming back to him. Why in the world had he gotten Ace? He had been so careful…meticulous…to keep away from all of his former acquaintances. But when Don hadn't turned the job offer down flat, Richard had blown up, and ordered Sam to find someone…he'd been caught up in the emotion. Now, it was too late. Ace was downstairs, trying out one of his new ideas on Don. Sam had heard the explanation. He knew how long Ace would keep on. He had serious doubts that the agent would make it to Day 7.

Sam put his cup down. So…was that it? Was he really going to let this happen? Was he going to brood while a man was killed beneath him? A man who was honorable…a man who had done nothing but serve his country and his family? No! Suddenly…grimly, Sam decided to change. He didn't know how…but he was going to stop this. He was tired of being ashamed. He was tired of standing behind a man in a wheel chair and pretending that he was unaware of what he was being asked to do. He was tired…of Richard. Standing, he took his cup and emptied it in the sink. Leaning against the counter, he began to plan. He would have to think and act quickly. There was no time to involve anyone else…he was alone in this. Trying to get the FBI involved would take too long – the agent would be dead by then. No – he had to do this himself. And it would have to happen tonight.

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I know, I know. You were all hoping for a Don scene. I was too…but this is what popped out instead. To be honest, I'm having real trouble writing a torture scene. I love Donnie…whumping is fine…torturing…a lot harder to write than I thought. However, Don-whump fans, fear not – there will now be a **LOT** of Don…and you will see what is happening to him downstairs. Also – the story will be very fast paced now, because the next few chapters are going to take place in a matter of hours, so be aware of that. Okay – please review! I want to know if you like it! I promise to _try_ to have the next chapter out in a couple of days.

Ciao!

Kas


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I could spend a really long time explaining why this story fell to the way-side…but I know you don't care…you just want to read this new chapter, don't you? I am eternally grateful to so many of you who have reviewed and put this story (and even me! *blushes*) on alerts, and I'm sorry I have probably disappointed you with my lack of writer stick-to-it-tive-ness (that was fun to write…don't tell my English teacher!) However, if there are still any of you out there…I hope you enjoy my offering:

OBSESSION: Chapter 14

Don was in agony: pure, unadulterated, indescribable agony. His world and scope of vision and concentration had dimmed to the here and now because of the nearly constant torture. And, indeed, for Don, the torture was continual. Richard and Ace, though Don did not know their faces or names, only stopped the "testing" when Don's body was drained of strength and he surrendered to the darkness of unconsciousness. Lately, even those times were short-lived, as his tormentor would often not be done with him when Don passed out, and would inject a shot of adrenaline into him, or simply use smelling salts to bring him back to awareness.

For days now, Don had been strung up in a cold room, hanging from the ceiling by his arms, secured in way too tight manicals. He knew that the chains binding him were attached to some kind of roller, presumably along the ceiling, as his tormenter could, with a push, sent him swinging and gliding along the ceiling. Such actions usually resulted in Don crashing back first into the wall behind him. This was a form of amusement for the guards as well, as they would take to "playing with the dog" whenever Ace left the room, presuming Don wasn't unconscious at the time.

One guard would stand in front of Don and another behind him. They would slide him back and forth to each other, time after time, until finally, when Don didn't expect it, the guard behind him wouldn't be there and he would careen full-force into the wall. As described, this "game" brought no end of amusement to the guards, who would continue their sick game until Don passed out or Ace came back.

The mental toll was horrendous for Don. Any time the door shut behind Ace, his stomach would drop. It was usually only seconds before a hand grabbed the back of his head and a gravelly voice always said the same thing: "Ready to play, Fed?" The worst part was that he began to expect the crash every time he was pushed backwards, so whether it came or not, the mental tension of preparing for pain was sickening. The good part, actually, was that the guards' disdain was one of the things keeping him sane. Don felt he was a rather strong man. He'd endured torture before. He'd been trained for it. But he was smart enough to know that he would probably have broken by now if not for one small detail that escaped his main tormentor's attention. The guards, behind Ace's back, called him "Fed." Oh, he knew they meant it in the worst way possible, but that wasn't the point…it was the one, single piece that was grounding Don and enabling him to keep some semblance of sanity.

Now though, for one of the first times since his first day of capture, at least that Don could remember, he was alone. He was hanging still, feet secured together and attached to a ring in the middle of the cell. Attempting to channel his pain into concentration, Don craned his ears, trying to detect any sound whatsoever. It was stone silent. It was unnerving. Where was everyone? Where was his tormentor? For the thousandth time since his capture, Don longed to be able to open his eyes and see anything. A blindfold, along with something else had been placed across his eyes, and Don had been unable to see for the entire length of his "visit" and it was unbelievable the amount of power that stripped from the agent.

On top of that, oftentimes, a complete gag was in place, totally removing his ability to speak or take in a breath. It had often been removed in a hurry when the torture he was subjected to had caused nausea. The claustrophobic nature of being blind and dumb was mental torture above and beyond all that his captors were doing to him physically. Maybe the worst thing was the fact that Don didn't know what they wanted! They were torturing him, systematically and methodically torturing him, but he had never once been asked for one piece of classified information or anything at all, actually. Why was he even here? That question plagued him.

Suddenly, Don heard the door being opened again. With strength he didn't even know he still had, Don lifted his blindfolded and gagged head from his chest and turned towards the sound of whoever had entered the room. A snarl was quick to come from Ace at the agent's rebellion. "Still haven't learned, have you, dog?"

Three blows to Don's midsection came in quick succession, leaving him gasping for air that wouldn't come easily, as he was still gagged. Sensing his rising panic at being unable to breathe in, Ace chuckled and began to close the collar still around Don's neck, inch by inch, until it was so tight against his larynx that Don's body began to lax as he slipped into unconsciousness. Behind the blindfold, Don's eyes rolled back into his head and his chin fell a bit forward, as much as the collar would allow. After a few seconds of this, Ace released the collar and grabbed the gag from Don's mouth. Slowly, Don became aware that his lungs were burning and his head was tingling. He was breathing, he suddenly realized.

When he finally came back to semi-awareness, he realized that Ace was chortling. That man was seriously sick! What was he saying?

"That just never gets old, dog! You are so pathetic! You can't even breathe without me helping you. You aren't worth the waste of air I'm generously letting you breathe!" Ace grabbed Don by his chin, which was now thick with stubble, grim, and dried blood. "Do you hear me, dog," he snarled. "You. Would. Be. Dead. Without. Me." His grip tightened, punctuating each word. "What do you say?"

Don realized his gag had been removed. Trying to swallow, he found his mouth dry (as usual) and his tongue thick as he licked his lips, trying to get a little moisture to answer Ace. He finally found a gravelly quiet portion of his voice and replied, "Well may-maybe you *cough* should b-back off on the-the collar controls th-then."

With a scream of rage, Ace backhanded Don viciously against his cheek, and something on his hand, a ring, probably, tore a long line of skin from Don's cheek. He tried to bite back the groan at yet another painful injury, but didn't quite get it swallowed in time. Ace had stepped back, trying to control his anger at his subject. He couldn't afford to snap and kill him like he wanted to…he still had so much more he wanted to do with him. Patience, he warned himself. But his insolence must be punished. Staring at the man hanging from a ceiling hook like a slab of meat, Ace decided. With a snap, he called one of his men to him and whispered an order. The same evil grin graced the guard's face as he walked up to Don and deftly undid one of the foot shackles that held Don to the grate in the middle of the room. Twisting it quickly so that Don couldn't get any leverage against him without further injuring himself, he looked back to Ace expectantly.

Nodding in satisfaction, Ace walked towards Don again, the epitome of calmness. Standing right in front of the agent, who was struggling to free his leg from the iron-clad grip that held it, he grabbed the agent's chin once again. "This," he said, "is what we do to dos who won't train." Before Don had a chance to react, Ace took the club he carried with him at all times and brought it down full force on Don right shin, splintering the bone easily. The agent's hoarse, strangled cry rang out through the room…and brought a smile to Ace's face.

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Cliff-hanger...yes, I know. Turns out I can write a torture scene! It just takes me a few...months. Anywho - what'd you think? Review please, and tell me what your thoughts are! Flames will be used to increase Don's fever, so use with caution. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So I'm not THAT evil…I freaked you out, but I wrote another chapter, see? Please don't hurt me!

OBSESSION: CHAPTER 15

Sam was working on the fly, figuring out how to save the agent downstairs and how to (hopefully) get himself out with little to no damage as well, while running through his options and collecting the few things he knew he'd need.

First, he mixed up a couple quick drinks and took them to the guards patrolling the downstairs hallways. The guards were grateful, and never knew what hit them. In minutes, Sam had pulled the unconscious men into an empty cell. Looking down at the two men, Sam was tempted to kill them or injure them severely…just for the pain they'd helped inflict upon Don Eppes. But he couldn't…not because his conscience forbade him to, but simply because he didn't have the time. He settled for removing their weapons, phones, and keys and hog-tying and gagging them quickly, before shutting off the lights and locking the door behind him.

Now fully armed, Sam crept with purpose downstairs. Using his newly acquired gun with a silencer, he took out two more guards. That left Ace and one more guard…and Richard. Ace and the guard were probably in with the prison…Don. Richard could be anywhere, but Sam would take care of Ace first. When Don's primal scream had reverberated through the house a half hour ago, Sam's heart had sunk. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew that his time had just run out. Now, he crept towards the room he knew held two maniacs and one badly injured Federal agent. As he got closer to the door, he heard raised voices and pained groaning. So Don was still alive! The relief that coursed through Sam at the realization nearly forced him to his knees.

Now he was at the door. Finding the correct key from the guard's key ring, Sam steadied himself and his gun, and swung open the cell door to a startling and sickening scene. Ace was branding Don, with a self-crafted cattle brand that Sam recognized all too well. As Sam threw open the door, Ace had touched the red hot iron to the skin just over Don's heart. In the split-second before time began moving again, Sam noticed that Don already sported brands on both thighs and on his left bicep. Out of Sam's view, Don's back was littered with the brand of the Horned "A" as well.

Then, the world came back into focus, and Sam pulled the triggers on both guns he was holding simultaneously. Sam could swear that he was in a scene from the Matrix or something, because time stood still as the bullets tore through the torture chamber before finding their marks with deadly accuracy. Sam had always been a good marksman. It had come in handy to get him out of a jam or two in his previous life, but he had never killed before. Now, in the space of 15 minutes, he'd killed 4 men. He quickly decided that he was NOT remorseful in the slightest.

Walking with purpose towards the body of Ace, Sam kept his gun trained on his former friend and kicked him, flipping him onto his back. He needn't have worried – his bullet had found its mark and Ace was dead, his specially created cattle brand cooling beside him on the cement floor. The last guard, too, lay beside Ace, his eyes open and unseeing, a gaping hole in his chest. Lastly, Sam turned his eyes to the object of his breach of character, Special Agent Don Eppes.

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I know, it's short and I didn't finish telling you what was going on, I'm sorry. :( I did kill Ace though, so that should make some of you happy. AND - fear not! I shall update very soon and all your questions will be answered! So...review for me and tell me what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Sorry about that short chapter last night. That scene was rolling around in my head and I couldn't figure out how to attach it to anything else, so it just turned out to be a stand-alone. Onward and upward! A flashback to what happened to Don between chapters 14 and 15 here first, and then by the end, we'll catch up to real time. More torture in this chapter – pretty explicit mental and physical torture at that – you've been warned.

OBSESSION: Chapter 16

When Ace had broken Don's leg because of his sarcastic remark, Don had let loose one of the few screams that he remembered uttering during his captivity. Then, he had promptly passed out. Ace was having none of it though, and opened an ammonia tablet, waving it under Don's nose, bringing him back to awareness.

"None of that now, dog," he muttered, still angry at Don's stubbornness. "That was the punishment for your rudeness. Now, we have a lesson to complete."

Don was still gasping, trying to gain control of his breathing as his leg screamed and white-hot fire traveled up and down his body. When he was finally able to get a bit of a handle on the new pain, he realized that he could smell and feel a fire going. His pain-filled mind struggled to equate this new variable, but he could find no reason for the addition to the torture chamber. Then, horror. For the first time since he'd been captured, Don's worst nightmare was realized. He felt hands gripping for his belt and slowly and methodically unhooking it, sliding it slowly from the belt loops of his ruined, bloodied slacks. His breathing hitched and he began to tremble. Why now, after so long? "No," he forced out, in a strangled whisper.

Ace grinned evilly and continued the slow removal of the belt. He was a large, strong man, and could deliver devastating physical blows, as evidenced by the beaten and broken man strung up before him. But what Ace loved more than anything was mental torture. That's why he spent so much time with the collar and the blindfold, even the gag and headphones sometimes, so that the agent had no senses to rely on during certain "teaching" sessions. He had no intention of raping the agent. He didn't go _that_ way. The point was, that Don obviously thought he would, and the anguish it was causing the agent was enough to make what Ace had originally intended to be a quick removal of clothing for a different purpose altogether a nice way to mentally torture his personal pet.

The belt gone finally, Ace reached for the button on Don's slacks. With a quick twist, the button went flying across the room and Ace slowly, centimeter by centimeter began unzipping the agent's pants. He had to hold back a chuckle at Don's reaction. The agent was hyperventilating, pulling weakly at his bonds. But, as he had found for his entire captivity, the chains gave only an inch or two, as he was pulled taut between his hands and feet. There was nowhere to go. Ace mentally chastised himself. Why hadn't he done this before? He realized that this might break the agent, and finally decided that he was glad he'd waited until he'd had almost all the fun he could before stumbling onto this serendipity of a mental nightmare for his pet.

Don was still struggling, but his strength was waning. Ace could wait. He stopped, prolonging the agent's anticipation, and leaving his pants open and unzipped, but still riding on Don's hips. After a minute, Ace's hands went back to work, feeling a thrill of delight as he felt the hard flinch as his hands connected with Don's skin. That reaction was what he'd been waiting for this whole time. Fear. Pure terror…because of him. It fed his ego and he removed his hands, only to reach out again, hoping to be rewarded with the feeling of triumph when their skin connected again. He was not disappointed. Don flinched, but otherwise did not move. He was now hanging limply from his wrists, his head down, his mouth moving slightly as he still whispered a plaintive, "no."

Ace pulled Don's head back by his hair and got right in his face. "What did you say, dog?"

"No," came the whispered reply, almost too quiet to hear, even with Ace standing right next to him. Ace realized that Don's voice had finally given out, probably due to the screaming he had done when his leg had been broken. So…maybe all that fight wasn't completely gone yet.

"You still haven't learned, have you, dog," he said, releasing Don's head and letting it bounce against the agent's chest. Bored already of the game he had gotten sidetracked with, Ace pulled Don's pants down around his bound ankles in one swift movement, causing a gasp of pain from the agent as his broken leg was disturbed. "I _own _you, dog," Ace continued, as if he didn't notice that he'd awoken the pain of Don's leg with a new-found fury. He walked over to the small kettle where a cattle brand had been heating on live coals during the last several minutes. "I can, and will, do anything I want with you." He picked up the brand and watched in satisfaction as it burned bright red. "And now, you'll carry my mark as your owner for the rest of your short, pitiful life." With cold eyes, he forced the brand into the tender skin of Don's right thigh, branding the agent with a Horned "A." The meaning was clear: Property of Ace.

Don's mind was reeling. His voice was gone, but the pain was unbearable! He couldn't stop the groaning as his skin was literally burned and seared with the hot, what? Poker? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that his tormentor seemed to be immensely enjoying his discomfort and was systematically burning different parts of him. He'd started with his right thigh, then moved just above his left knee and pushed the burning hot metal into his skin there. Don didn't even feel himself turn, to give Ace access to his back, already scarred and torn by different implements, nor did he notice being flipped back to face front again when Ace was through with his back. He was lost in the torment of burning pain all over his body. He lost track of how many times he was branded. His groans were practically never-ending. They all rolled into one long cry of grief and despair and all he could think was that he was done and he just wanted to all to end, now!

And then, suddenly, it did. Though he was still aching, Don noticed that he was no longer being touched by the burning implement and his mind struggled to once more come back to reality. He felt as if he had missed something very important, and he began to quiet his breathing as the hair on the back on his neck stood up. Somehow, something had changed. He wasn't sure what it was or how it had happened, but Don was certain that the status quo was no longer what it had been.

Slowly, he became aware of harsh breathing coming from where he thought he could still hear the fire. But that wasn't right. There should be two men in there, right? He thought he smelled blood, but dismissed it as he realized it was probably his. His breathing hitched again as he remembered the last time all had gone quiet and he had been wondering what was going to happen next – those hands had touched him and…he began shaking his head violently…starting into a full-blown panic attack. What was going to happen to him?

Sam realized his error in not speaking to the agent immediately. His eyes had, of course, taken in that the agent's pants were piled around his ankles and the shackles holding him taut just inches off the ground. The only relief from the initial sickness he had felt at the scene was the fact that Don's boxers were still in place, and Sam prayed against all hope that Ace had not done something that might break any man, even one as strong as Don Eppes.

Snapped out of his reverie by the agent's sudden onset of panic, Sam hurried past the two dead bodies to the agent's side, trying to comfort him and let him know that he was okay. Placing a hand on his left shoulder, Sam kept his voice low and said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Agent Eppes? Don? It's alright…I'm going to get you out of here."

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I know, that was rough. But I really had to get past that fear I have of writing torture, and so I just took it head on and went with it. I hope it was okay and not too forced. Please review and tell me what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Wow – sorry it took so long to get this up. I don't know where my week went! Thanks for all of the reviews – glad that the last few scenes weren't too over the top for you guys.

OBSESSION: Chapter 17

Don tensed as Sam called him by his name. This was a voice he didn't recognize, and he was still trying to process the feeling that something was drastically different. Realizing that his thought were slipping again, he tried to come back to the present, noticing that the stranger was talking to him again.

"…promise I'll be gentle because of your leg, but I'm going to pull them up, ok?"

"W-what?" Don managed to get out.

If Sam was disturbed by repeating himself, he didn't show it. "I said I'm going to pull your slacks back up, real gently, ok? Your leg is broken pretty badly, but I think you'll be more comfortable, don't you?"

Don's stomach flip-flopped at the thought of anyone being able to change his clothing whatsoever, but he realized that whoever this person was, he was trying to be discreet and help Don. So, despite wanted to scream in defiance, Don nodded. He was aware that this could be a trick to further mess with him mentally, but he figured it was worth a shot – he desperately wanted to feel like he had a slight bit of control, and having his pants on would go a long way to accomplishing that,

He felt hands begin to move the crumpled slacks from around his ankle, and his breath caught again. The stranger must have noticed, because he began talking as he very gently moved the slacks back up Don's legs, desperately trying not to touch the burn marks and the broken shin bone. The material still moved along the wounds, causing Don to wince. Sam grimaced in empathy.

"I know it's bad, and I'm sorry – I'm trying not to touch any of these…wounds. Once we get you…covered up again, I'm going to unlock the manacles on your feet first. We'll have to be careful with your arms – you've been hanging by them for days, and it could be really bad if I just pull you down without preparing. How's this, that ok?"

Sam knew he was rambling, but he was so uncomfortable trying to redress the agent and trying quite hard not to think about what had obviously been done and trying even harder to block the images of what might have been done to the man in front of him. With Don's slacks pulled up to his hips, Sam stopped awkwardly. Deciding that Don would probably rather he just stop with what he'd done, he left the pants riding on Don's hips and crouched back down to unlock the heavy chains pulling Don to the ground.

Don hadn't made a sound except for a few grunts of pain when Sam had touched some of his recent wounds. His mind was reeling. Was he saved? This person was obviously no FBI agent. Maybe he was undercover and had snuck in to save him? Don was trying to reconcile all of the new information being thrown at him when he felt the weight of the chains fall off of his feet. He gasped in surprise at the new feeling, plus the measurable difference of the pull against his arms and wrists. He thought it was high time to figure out what was going on and who his rescuer was. So, with great effort, Don raised his head and whispered," Who are you? Where is the other…guy?"

Sam heard the hesitation in Don's voice and knew that he was wondering if Sam was part of the group who had kidnapped him. Leave it to Don Eppes' mind to still be working 100% even after extreme torture. Knowing that this question would be coming eventually though, Sam sighed and gave him the answer he'd been working on. "My name is Samuel Lopez and the other…guy…is dead. You were pretty much out of it when I got here, but don't worry – he is definitely dead, and he's never going to touch you again."

Don tried to work through this new information, but was brought up short when he felt the man…Samuel….working on the collar around his neck. H=Don was pretty sure by now that Samuel meant him only well, but he couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him as his rescuer's hands neared his neck. And he began to fidget as the hands closed around his throat. Sam noticed his apprehension, and felt bad that he hadn't warned him what he was doing. "Easy now, Don," he said, stressing the agent's name to try to ease his fears. "The unlock function is inside the collar so my hands have to be here, but they'll be gone, along with the collar, in just a second."

Don nodded past his feelings and, true to his rescuer's word, moments later felt the oppressive collar fall from his neck and clatter to the concrete floor. It was unbelievable how much easier Don felt he could breathe, even though the collar didn't hamper his breathing without Ace turning it on and tightening it. Don surmised that it was probably more the mental chain coming off that made breathing easier than the physical one.

The collar off, Sam now had to figure out how to release Don from the chains stringing him up from the ceiling. He knew that if he just unlocked the chains and let Don's arms fall for the first time in 5 ½ days, the agent could suffer adverse effects. On the other hand, he'd already taken quite a bit of time releasing Don, and he knew that they both had to get out of there – quickly. Nodding to himself, he stepped back on the chair that he'd utilized to unlatch the collar around Don's neck. "Okay, Don," he said, steadying himself and trying to prepare the agent for what was about to happen, "I'm going to unhook your arms from these chains now. I know you haven't stood in days, and I'm going to do my best to ease you down, but you're bigger than me and I just want to prepare you in case I can't hold on to you, ok?"

Don whispered his assent and tried to steady his body for when his weight would come crashing down. Nothing could have prepared him, however, for the pain that went coursing through his arms when he was finally released and, very quickly, lowered all the way to the ground by Samuel. Having hung without respite from his arms for…what had Samuel said - 5 ½ days – had taken its toll, and the sudden movement and change in altitude awakened every nerve and injury in Don's body. His body spasming violently, Don felt his shoulders being turned as he vomited onto the cold floor. Of course, having had nothing but drugs in his system for almost a week, all he brought up was acid. Still, his body continued to react and he began dry heaving and hyperventilating. Through it all, he felt strong hands holding him and a quiet voice speaking to him, though he couldn't make out the words through the rushing in his ears.

Finally, the worst of the spasms subsided enough for Don to lean back, against Samuel, completely spent. All was quiet for a few more minutes, as Samuel let Don try to recover his strength. Finally, knowing that he could wait no longer, Sam began to speak. "I know that you aren't real strong right now, but we have to get out of here. I can help, a lot, but you are gonna have to dig deep and find just a bit more of that strength that's been keeping you alive this week and work with me, ok?"

Sam was encouraged by Don's reaction. The agent seemed to grow a bit more alert and nodded slightly. Slowly, Sam got to his feet, pulling Don up with him, afraid that he wouldn't be able to lift his slack weight. Don helped a bit and with just a few tries, the two were able to get up, Don standing for the first time in nearly a week. His knees buckled some, but he was held up by Sam who quietly encouraged him and the two shuffled towards the door.

Several minutes later, Don was leaning, breathing heavily, against the door post. Trying to catch his breath, he reached up to take the blindfold off of his eyes. He'd gotten so used to it, he'd only just now realized it was still on. Samuel's hand stopped his and Don couldn't help the breath getting caught in his throat. Why wouldn't Samuel let him see? Sam was quick to explain. "You've been blindfolded for a week – these rooms have overhead lights, and I can't turn them off down here. You take that blindfold off, and you wouldn't be able to see anyway. I promise – as soon as we get safe, it'll come off. It's not for me, it's for you, ok?"

Don tried to understand and nodded, putting his hand down. He still wished he could pull the last vestiges of his torture off, but Samuel had a point. Feeling his rescuer pull him up again, with his left arm slung over his shoulder, the two were off again, shuffling down a long hallway. Just as Don was sure they'd never reach the end, he felt Samuel tense greatly and the hairs on the back of his neck went up again. Blast this stupid blindfold – what was happening? Then, above them, like from the ceiling…a staircase, perhaps?...came a voice, one that Don didn't recognize. Samuel was trembling now, slightly, but still holding onto him, so Don felt him.

"Hello Sam," came a very gruff sounding voice. "May I ask what in the world you think you're doing?"

Don only heard Samuel…Sam…utter one word. But that word seemed to resonate and cause his stomach to clench in fear.

"Richard," Sam said slowly.

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Dun, dun, DUN! Had you forgotten about Richard? :D It feels like the scenes between Sam and Don are dragging to me. I'm not thrilled with this chapter. What do you think? I promise - we are actually getting pretty close the end now. I'm going to shoot for an update a week-ish, more if my work load is a little easier. So - please hit that little button and review! Thanks!


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